


Time's Curse

by Nebbles



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask
Genre: Angst, Gen, Link (Legend of Zelda) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, do you think about how chateau romani could be alcoholic in nature, in the year of our lord 2020 i am still writing majora's mask fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: It's easier, Link wants to tell himself, to hide his hurt from others, to never let any in.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	Time's Curse

He didn’t want to let go. Link gripped Cremia’s shirt gently, unaware he was still holding onto her. Was it truly time to go already? Could he not stay?

“Link?” Cremia asked gently, placing her hands on his. “Are you okay?”

Her words snapped Link out of his stupor. He looked up at her, shaking his head, releasing his grip. “I’m okay. I’m just… tired,” his voice betrayed his words. Link hadn’t realized how broken and small his voice had gotten.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Cremia knelt to meet him at eye level, smiling gently. “It would be unfair to not repay your kindness for the milk delivery. Come, sit.” She led him to the grass, patting the space next to her. “Talk to me.”

Link stared at her in silence. Talk? He didn’t know if he wanted to. He’d kept himself reserved ever since the cycles began to blend together. Knowledge of the end -- or perhaps there was a means to prevent it -- was prudent to him and Tatl, and no one else.

He hadn’t talked to Tatl in a while, either. Ironically enough, all of their conversations felt the same as well.

Tatl silently floated near him, knowing her words would mean little.

“I…” Link cleared his throat, “I’m so tired, Cremia. I’m tired of seeing that moon follow me wherever I go. It won’t stop staring at me, and I know I need to stop it, but I don’t even know if I can. Every time I feel like I make progress, I have to go back, and I keep being told I’m making progress and I am helping but I just—” Link took a moment to breathe, “I see it if I can manage to fall asleep. It’s in my nightmares—”

When met with silence, Link feared he’d said too much. Cremia’s worried gaze stayed on him for what felt like an eternity before it slowly returned to the night sky.

“The moon…” Link knew he wasn’t the only person struggling with the moon’s closeness; the pain wasn’t his own. Cremia had a family, a little sister to worry about, her own thoughts of the end. “I hate seeing it too. It scares me, knowing we’re going to die… but I’ll be alright. I’m here for you, Link.”

“I just want to save everyone. I’m afraid I can’t. I see that moon falling, I see all of Termina burning in flames, and it’s because of me.” Link drew his knees to his chest, staring blankly at the grass. “All those people I tried to help…”

Cremia reached one hand out, gently placing it on his shoulder. She nodded silently when Link looked up at her, motioning for him to continue.

“This whole world is depending on me. Even if people leave Termina, the moon’s still coming. I don’t even know if I fully know what to do.” Link thought about the masks he had collected so far. He had played the Song of Healing for the giants – that’s what he was told to do. That’s what Tatl said would save everyone. Yet, at the same time, Link felt with every return to the First Day, all that progress was gone. Despite the masks sitting there as irrefutable evidence, Link couldn’t believe it at times.

Cremia moved her hand to his back, rubbing it gently, urging for Link to go on.

He was only a child. The world had been so unkind to him. 

“I don’t want to keep turning back time. I know I have to, but seeing everyone happy, and then having to take it away…” Link felt his throat grow thick as tears formed in his eyes. He tried wiping them away, yet they continued to form. “I feel awful. I’m responsible for everyone. Their lives. Their happiness. And I keep having to take it away.”

“Link…” Cremia’s voice held a certain distance, as if some errant thought had stolen her away. 

Was she thinking of Romani? Link wondered if she was imagining her sister in the same situation; they were the same age. Surely the world would not be cruel enough to give another such a terrible fate.

From Hyrule to Termina had he traveled, searching for a wayward friend who had promised not to leave his side. A simple task had led to the world’s fate weighing down his shoulders once more, aging him beyond his years, imparting numbness to one undeserved. What a horrible burden to bear for such a courageous boy.

“Is it wrong to hate Termina? I thought this wouldn’t be hard. I saved Hyrule before, I went back and forth in time before. That hurt too, but I had friends by my side.” Link took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was getting hard to talk through all the tears. “I’m supposed to be a hero. I should be able to do this without feeling this way.”

Link wasn’t sure why tears managed to break through the careful lid he’d placed upon his emotions (and whether such a thing was intentional or not, that he cannot answer with certainty), why now he chose to shatter. Dancing between the bridge of time, how it threw him out of sync with his body, felt easier to stomach than the crack of his bones and mangling of his form that the masks gave him.

Never does Link wish to inhabit a body that is not his ever again.

“Was this Hyrule place better for you?” Cremia pulled Link into a gentle hug, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “Was it just like this?”

“N-no,” he let a sob pass through his body, “I had so much more time. I missed seven years of my life, but I was able to save everyone. The people I knew as a kid were still there as an adult…” Well, mostly everyone. He didn’t want to think about Saria and the others in the Sage’s Realm forever. At least they were safe. He missed them terribly. “I could protect people, and I knew they’d see tomorrow.”

Seven years. He handled that loss of time better than the repetition of these endless three days.

“I just want to go home,” Link whispered softly, as if admittance brought him shame. He then realized – what was home? He couldn’t return to the Kokiris. He didn’t belong. He wasn’t fit to live in the castle, either. He had no home in Hyrule. There was nowhere to return to. That thought alone tore through Link’s heart as he sobbed harder into Cremia’s shoulder. “...I don’t have one, though.” 

“Oh, Link…” Cremia sighed softly, before smiling down at him. “Hey, I have an idea. After you save all of us, how about you live on the ranch? You can come right back here and live with Romani and I.”

Link remained silent. He knew this wasn’t possible. He wasn’t going to beat Skull Kid fast enough. The Second Day was almost over. 

“Even if you have to go back, just come here and talk to me again, okay? Just tell me everything once more, and you’ll have a home,” she patted his head affectionately, “and then you won’t be lonely anymore!”

Link pulled himself away from Cremia’s shoulder. He thought of the possibility of living at the ranch after this was all over. It sounded too good to be true. There was no way it could happen. But the idea filled him with warmth. He’d be safe and happy.

“...Okay,” Link nodded weakly. Maybe she was right. Maybe he’d be able to come back. “I’ll come back, when we’re all safe.”

Maybe he was lying to himself again.

“Good. And I’m sure you’ll come back.” Cremia slowly broke the hug, smiling. “But I know right now, you’re facing a lot of pain. And sometimes, it may be too much to bear.” She walked over to the wagon, pulling out a single bottle of milk. Link noticed the label looked different than the rest of the bottles -- huh. How particular. “Have this, all right? You bear the responsibilities of an adult, so this milk is for you. It’s special.”

Link accepted the bottle, removing the cork and sniffing it. It smelled different – oddly strong – than normal milk. He scrunched up his face, looking at Cremia in confusion. She seemed happy he’d accepted it, and didn’t want to tear the happiness away from her as well.

Whatever it was, he nodded and put it in his pouch.

Cremia looked at the sky, as did Link. The moon felt closer than normal.

“Thank you, Cremia,” Link wiped the last of tears from his eyes. “I need to go now, but I’ll be back. I promise.”

“I know you will,” she gave him one last hug, waving as he headed off in the opposite direction.

She looked sadly at Link, only wondering where he was off to next.

As Link traveled further from the ranch, he felt the pit in his stomach grow bigger. He knew he had to turn back soon. The final day was approaching, and he was nowhere near the next temple. His body felt frozen, unable to pull out the ocarina. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want Cremia to forget.

“Link…” Tatl spoke up, “I know it’s going to be difficult. But the fate—”

“I know. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have left,” Link gave a sigh, regret hanging over him like the moon itself, “I opened up, only to feel worse than I did before… this is my fault. I should have never talked.”

“Link… if you never had, keeping it all in would’ve hurt you more.” Tatl tried to reassure him. “I’m sure this helped."

“Even if it did, she doesn’t remember.” Link pulled out the ocarina, staring at it in silence. He sighed, figuring it’d be better to sort his emotions out before going back once more. 

With curiosity still nipping at his mind, he reached for the bottle of milk. He popped open the cork once more, making the same face as he sniffed it again. Why did it smell like that? It wasn’t spoiled, that much was for sure. The smell was unidentifiable to him.

He knew he’d lose this after going back. Link took a sip of milk, coughing as it burned his throat. 

Whatever was added to the milk was potent, and it made him close the bottle within an instant. “Ugh, that was disgusting. What was that?”

“She did say it was special…” Tatl flew closer to the label, “Chateau Romani, huh? I wonder what makes it different.”

Whatever it was, a sip alone was enough to make him not wish to take another. It’d be rude to deny her generosity, but what good would it be for him to drink something that had a chance to make him ill? 

It wasn’t like Cremia to give him something so foul, either. Link stared at the bottle with a furrowed brow, as if studying the label further would offer insights of its contents. 

“Why would she give me something that tastes like this?” It’s the only question to come to mind, the curiosity of a child mixed with an uncertainty he wasn’t fond of.

It wasn’t like the usual unease he felt, the one that would come with apocalypse. Was it betrayal, perhaps? Cracked defenses were something uncommon to Link, and to have them answered with something that hurt so… 

Link’s answer was to dump the bottle out on the grass.

It was a childish response, to be sure, that was exactly what Link was: a young boy, weathered beyond his years as the end of the world continued to age him. He couldn’t quite shake the foolish tendencies, the one he gained back in the flora of Kokiri. 

It’s what defined him at the end of the day, at the end of every cycle as time wove its way together once more, waiting to snap like the taut string of a bow as the moon grew ever closer. 

“It’s not like it’ll be able to come back with me.” A tired gaze looked back to Tatl. “And I guess I’m not returning to the ranch next time.”

Termina was not a place for friendship.

It was better that way, Link told himself.


End file.
